


Marriage Material

by doctorxdonna (badxwolfxrising)



Series: Earth Girls Are So Not Easy [15]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Babyfic, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/doctorxdonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He couldn’t think of a single good reason not to marry Donna, but it had never even occurred to him to ask in the first place.  Perhaps he took it for granted that she never pushed him for more than what he gave readily."  The slightly smutty follow-up story to You've Got A Deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marriage Material

“Do we have to do this?” Donna asked petulantly.

In front of the mirror, the Doctor was adjusting his bow tie and wondering if he was tempting fate by wearing the tux. So far, nothing good had ever happened to him while wearing it, but he was ever hopeful he might break the unlucky streak. He looked over his shoulder at Donna. “Do what?”

“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely at herself, and then at him. “Getting all fancied up. Do we really have to go?”

“Donna, we saved the Ploeicians entire planet from being incinerated by a supernova. They’re throwing a banquet in our honor. The least we can do is show up and mingle, sample the local food, maybe have a bit of a dance,” he said, running a hand through his hair to make sure it looked artfully disheveled and not like he’d spent half an hour messing with it.

“That sounds exhausting,” she replied.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, going over to her and pressing his wrist against her forehead in concern. “You used to love getting dressed up and going to parties.”

She rolled her eyes, and batted his hand away. “Yeah, well I used to a lot of things. Like, for instance, I used to not look like a beached whale wearing a cocktail dress.”

“Don’t you dare even start,” he admonished her. “You look great. Gorgeous, even. Glowing.”

She heaved herself off the bed with a dramatic sigh, and went to stand in front of the mirror. Hands pressed against the aching small of her back, she turned this way and that, examining her reflection with a glum expression. She was wearing a knee-length cap sleeved grey jersey gown with a shimmering blue lace overlay. The deep v-neck of the dress accentuated her cleavage, which was truly impressive at this stage of her pregnancy. “I’ve still got three months to go, and I already look like I swallowed an exercise ball. I’m bloody gihugic.”

The Doctor frowned. “That’s not even a proper word. And anyway, you still look beautiful. You are well-suited to motherhood.”

“You have to say that sort of stuff. You’re the one who got me up the duff in the first place,” she said.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his hands rest over the generous swell of her abdomen and his chin on her shoulder. “I’m not just saying it to say it, Donna. I’m saying it because I mean it. I know you’re used to your mother’s nettling, but you need to let go of the lies she told you and accept the truths I’m giving to you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the universe, more lovely than Helen of Troy, or Rita Hayworth, or Venus herself. You are clever, kind, capable, and patient. You are the the light in the darkness, the safe port in a storm, my best friend and the mother of my children. And I’m going to keep telling you until you finally start to believe it.”

For once, she was rendered speechless. Instead of answering him, she just mutely nodded her head. 

Satisfied, the Doctor unwrapped himself from her and held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “Shall we?”

* * * * *

“Doctor.”

The Doctor turned his head at the sound of his name. He was by the bar, waiting on a lime soda for himself, and the Ploeician equivalent of a non-alcoholic sparkling cider for Donna, when the President of Ploeicia Minor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, um, hello.”

“I just wanted to once again extend my thanks to you and your wife. What was her name, Dana?” the President said, smiling pleasantly.

“Donna, actually,” the Doctor corrected. “And she’s not my wife. We’re just…”

“You’re just what?” the President prompted.

“Uh, she’s my...girlfriend? No, that’s not quite right. Um, partner? No, that’s not it, either. Companion? Hmmm, still no. She’s my...Donna,” the Doctor floundered.

The President raised his eyebrows. “Oh? I thought for sure you two were married. You seem so committed to each other. Is she not with your child?”

The Doctor tugged at his collar, uncomfortable with this particular line of questioning. “Well yeah, she is. But you don’t need to marry someone to have a child with them, or be committed. Donna and I are together, that’s not up for questioning.”

“If you love her, why not marry her?” the President asked.

“Who said anything about love?” the Doctor replied as neutrally as possible.

The President chuckled. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. A person would have to be blind not to see it. You’re a man besotted, that much is obvious.”

“Right,” the Doctor replied, accepting his drinks from the bartender. “Still...a relationship is more than just a piece of paper. I don’t think either one of us feels the need to formalize things like that to prove that we love each other.”

“Marriage is more than just a piece of paper, Doctor. It’s about having a witness to your life,” the President said knowingly. “Someone who helps give you purpose and direction. And let’s be honest, most women are interested in marriage, especially if they’re having children with a man.”

The Doctor frowned. “Now that’s not fair. That’s just a generalization. Women aren’t the only ones interested in marriage. And you don’t need to be married to raise children together.”

“If you say so,” the President said. “Chalk it up to cultural differences, I suppose. Some might call me old fashioned. But having a child with someone is a much bigger commitment than marriage. I can’t understand why you’d be alright with one, but not the other.”

“Quite right, too,” the Doctor mused. He couldn’t think of a single good reason not to marry Donna, but it had never even occurred to him to ask in the first place. Perhaps he took it for granted that she never pushed him for more than what he gave readily.

“Anyway, I won’t keep you,” the President said. “I just wanted to say thank you again for everything you’ve done for us, Doctor. And congratulations.”

“What was all that about?” Donna asked when he returned to the table with their drinks.

“Oh, nothing. Just the President expressing his gratitude, that’s all,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh? It’s just you looked so uncomfortable up there, I thought he’d said something off,” she replied.

“Nah. But you know me, I don’t like hero worship. I get uncomfortable when people are lavishing their praises on me,” he said.

She cocked her eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s entirely true. You seem to enjoy it when I stroke your ego.”

“Or other things,” he quipped, grinning cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. “Nine hundred, going on nine years old, you are.”

“What’s the point of being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes?” he said with a shrug.

* * * * *

Donna woke up sweating, the sheets a tangled mess around her. Bloody hot flashes. The Doctor had assured her it wasn’t uncommon for women in the later stages of pregnancy to experience them, but that did nothing to soothe her when she felt like she was on fire. Kicking the sheets and blanket to the side, she carefully heaved herself off of the bed. She pulled her sodden tshirt over her head, and shivered when the air hit her bare, damp skin. Her pyjama bottoms were sticking to her legs and arse, so she shucked them, as well as her knickers. Naked and shivering, she crawled back into the bed and snuggled up next to the Doctor, who was sprawled out on his back, snoring softly. He rolled over onto his side and began spooning her, one arm draped over her waist and resting on her belly, though he still seemed to be asleep. If he had been an ordinary man, it would’ve been too warm for her, but as it was, the Doctor’s body temperature was lower than hers and the feel of his cool skin pressed against her own flushed body was a welcome relief.

She was just beginning to drop back off to sleep when she felt him twitch against the small of her back. Without even thinking about it, she wiggled her bum against him, and he responded by thrusting his hips against her. His hand drifted from her belly to her hip, which he gripped firmly as he ground himself against her. She sighed, as his hand skimmed its way down her thigh, then back up it again. He grabbed her right underneath her arse, and guided her leg up so that her thigh was laying across his. His hand drifted back up her side to cup her breast, where his fingers gently caressed her nipple, rubbing in slow circles until the little nub of flesh was hard enough to cut diamonds and Donna was squirming against him. His hand dropped back down to her hip before his fingers crept lower, to the damp thatch of curls between her legs. He stroked between her folds, tentatively at first, but then, blessedly, pressing down with his thumb and increasing the friction she was desperately craving. He slipped two curled fingers inside of her, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him. She arched her back and felt him, hot and hard against her, even as his lips were pressed against her throat and sucking gently but urgently.

“Doctor...please,” she moaned.

He didn’t require an elaboration on her part. They knew each other so well by now, knew the curves and hollows of each other’s bodies as intimately as their own, knew what would cause the other to gasp and sigh and moan with pleasure. He wasted no time guiding himself to her entrance and thrusting into her tight, slick heat. Keeping one hand braced on her hip, he moved inside of her as his lips worked their way down her neck and across her shoulder, fastening over a particularly interesting freckle.

“This is no good,” she gasped. “I want to be able to see your face.”

“So get on top.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll crush you!”

“No, you won’t. Get on top,” he repeated, rolling onto his back.

Carefully, Donna moved to straddle him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. They both sighed with relief when she sank down onto him. He grabbed her bum, pressing her tightly against him as she began to ride him like her life depended on it. His hands were never still, always roaming from her bum, to her hips, to her belly, to her breasts. His gaze always remained fixed on her face, though, even when his eyes began to glaze over. She could see and feel that he was close, and she was, too. As heat pooled low in her belly, she increased the pace, letting him slide nearly all the way out before plunging back down onto him. His grip on her hips tightened, and his back lifted up off of the bed as he spent himself inside of her with a shudder and a moan. She didn’t stop moving though, grinding against him until her own climax ripped through her body like a tidal wave. 

After a moment, she rolled off of him and onto her side, nestling her head in the crook between his arm and torso. He drew his arm around her, pulling her in closer. Tracing absent-minded patterns with her fingers across the surface of his chest, she sighed contentedly. Eventually, the two of them fell back to sleep, still tangled up in each other.

* * * * *

It was the sound of Donna’s sobbing echoing through the TARDIS that finally drew the Doctor out from underneath the console. He’d been doing some tinkering, trying to make adjustments to the randomizer and a few other things. Normally, sounds were pretty well contained within the TARDIS, but he knew the ship was purposefully amplifying the sound, letting him know that Donna was in distress. He finally found her in one of the kitchens, weeping brokenly into a mug of tea.

“What is it?” he said, going to her side. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid. It’s just the hormones, that’s all,” she said, hiccupping.

He spied her mobile phone, sitting on the table. “Were you just talking to your mother?”

She gave a watery little laugh. “Gee, what tipped you off?”

He balled his hands into fists. “I swear...you know I’m a pacifist, but that woman just might drive me to violence yet. What did she say to you?”

“It’s nothing, really. Just forget it,” Donna said.

“Donna, I could hear you crying in the console room. It’s certainly not nothing if it’s got you this upset. Now tell me what Sylvia said,” he pressed.

“She called to tell me that my cousin Nadine is getting married. And then she got on me, saying that I’m not getting any younger, and she’s right. I’m thirty-eight years old, unemployed, unmarried, and pregnant. And she doesn’t even know about the last bit, because if I told her I let an alien knock me up, her head would literally explode,” Donna said shakily. “It’s just...my life hasn’t gone quite the way I expected. I don’t regret travelling with you, not for a second, but it’s meant putting some of the hopes and dreams I had up on a shelf. I always thought I would grow up, get married, find a job I really liked, and have a family of my own. Settle down. That’s never going to happen now.”

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against him. She rested her head against his stomach, and took several deep, hitching breaths until she started to calm down. He pulled his fingers soothingly through her hair as she kept her face pressed against him, taking comfort in his strange but still familiar smell.

“Come on,” he finally said, tugging her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she questioned as he pulled her down the hallway, back towards the console room.

“Las Vegas,” he answered.

“Las Vegas? Why would we go there?” she asked, confused.

“Because,” he said, turning around to take her by the shoulders. “It’s about time I made an honest woman out of you.”

“You...wait, what?” Donna replied, sure she had misheard him.

“You want to get married? Let’s get married,” he said.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head firmly. “No, no. I’m not going to have you going and offering to marry me out of pity. That’s not fair.”

The Doctor groaned in frustration. “Do you really think I’d ask you out of pity? Donna, I’m asking because I’ve wanted it all along, I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“You’re serious?” she asked. “You really want to marry me?”

“Well, of course I do,” the Doctor said, as though it were obvious. “You’re my best friend and the mother of my children, why would I want us to get married?”

“I said I wanted to get married,” she said. “I never said I wanted to get married to _you_.”

His jaw dropped open. “I...well, I just assumed...oh. Well then. But I thought...I thought you loved me?”

“I do love you,” she said.

“Well if that’s the case, how come you don’t want to marry me?” he pouted.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you,” she replied.

Realization dawned on his face. “You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?”

She laughed. “Well, I had to make it at least a little difficult for you. The thrill is in the chase, Doctor, after all.”

“So does that mean…?”

“Yes, of course, you great big alien git.”

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed, sweeping her into his arms. “Although I think there’s a good chance that this might actually make your mother’s head explode.”

“I’m counting on it,” she replied, kissing him.

“Yeah, I don’t think I actually want to be present when she finds out. Maybe we could just send her a postcard or something,” the Doctor said, tapping a finger against his chin.

Donna chuckled. “Oh, to be a fly on the wall when she got _that_ in the post.”

“Think we should stop off in Chiswick, see if Wilf wants to come along as witness?” the Doctor asked.

“Are you kidding? A trip in the TARDIS would make his life,” she beamed.

“Well there’s that, yeah, but I just figured he’d want to see his favorite granddaughter get hitched,” the Doctor answered.

“I’m his only granddaughter,” she pointed out.

“Semantics,” he replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Alright, I’ll give him a call, tell him to meet us around the corner so mum doesn’t see,” she said.

“Oh, and maybe pop down to the wardrobe room? I’m sure there’s a dress or two down there you could wear,” he said. “I’ll work on scaring up some rings. I’m sure I have a spare biodamper or two rattling around the joint.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I can’t very well get married in my nightie,” she replied, smiling. “Are you going to change?”

“Nah,” he said, pulling on his tie. “Why would I change when I’m already dashing and handsome in this?”

She rolled her eyes. “And modest, too.”

He grinned back at her. “Yeah, and now you’re stuck with me. Ha!”

* * * * *

Sylvia Noble was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea and rifling through the mail. The majority of it was bills, but at the bottom of the stack, just the corner of a postcard peeked out. She pulled it from the bottom of the pile with a smile. Who could’ve sent her a postcard? Her face fell, when she saw what the image on the little piece of cardstock actually was. A very pregnant Donna stood next to an Elvis impersonator, wearing a white dress and a birdcage veil. On the other side of Elvis was that man, that Doctor from the wedding, wearing a broad, catlike grin. Across the bottom of the card in pink script it read “Wish You Were Here”. She flipped the postcard over, and read the inscription.

_Turns out I’m marriage material after all. Sorry you missed it._

_-Donna_

_PS-You’re going to be a grandmother_

The postcard fluttered out of her hands and fell to the table. Shaking her head, she snapped back into herself and picked up her mobile. Viciously, she punched the digits in rapid succession, and waited as it rang.

“...hello?” a man’s sleepy voice came over the speaker.

“Oh, well it would be you,” Sylvia said with a sneer. “Put Donna on the phone. Now.”

“Why? So you can lay into her? I don’t think so,” the Doctor snorted.

“Put my daughter on the phone!” she shouted.

“Now you listen here, Dragon Lady. She might be your daughter, but she’s _my_ wife, and I’ll be damned if I let you continue to castigate her for not living up to whatever impossibly high expectations you have. You know what I think? I think that you’re unhappy with the way _your_ life turned out, and now you’re trying to live vicariously through her. Well, I won’t let you. That ends. Right now,” he said sharply.

“You you you you…!” she spluttered, rendered practically speechless by her own impotent rage.

“Donna doesn’t need your negativity right now. Either you support her right to make her own choices, or you keep away.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she finally spat.

“Your son-in-law,” he answered. “So get used to it.”

Sylvia inhaled deeply, exhaled, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “May I please speak to Donna?”

“Only if you promise to play nice,” he answered.

“Fine,” she relented. “I’ll be...nice.”

“Mum?”

“Donna,” she sighed.

“I take it you got the postcard?”

“Yeah,” Sylvia said, glancing down to where the offending item lay on the table. “I got the postcard.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but I knew if I told you in person you’d explode before I even got a chance to get a word in edgewise.”

“Well what mother in her right mind would be happy over a shotgun wedding?” Sylvia asked.

“It wasn’t a shotgun wedding mum, not really. We got married because we love each other, not because of the babies.”

“Babies?! In the plural?”

“Triplets, actually. Two girls and a boy. Any day now.”

“Triplets?” Sylvia repeated weakly.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say back to me?”

“No, sorry. Triplets. Good Lord. I never…”

“You never expected you’d actually become a grandmother, I know. I was starting to think you wouldn’t, either. You can thank your lucky stars for the Doctor. Finally, a man who loves me for me.”

“But he’s an alien,” Sylvia protested.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, Madam.”

“Don’t get judgmental with me, mum.”

“What did I tell you?” the Doctor again, the anger evident in his tone.

“Oh, to hell with you!” Sylvia shot back.

“Right then. Goodbye. We’ll send a post after the babies are born. Don’t bother calling back, not until you learn to control yourself.”

And then there was nothing but dial tone. Sylvia stared down at the phone, dumbfounded. She wasn’t used to not getting her way, or being put in her place, and the Doctor had just effectively done both.

She got up from her chair, and went to go look for her father, positive that he must know something about the whole mess.

* * * * *

“Wow,” Donna chuckled. “You really went all Oncoming Storm on her.”

“Yeah, well, she had it coming,” he retorted defensively.

“Easy there Spaceman, I never said she didn’t,” Donna chided lightly, accepting their daughter from him. Selena’s brother and sister, Sorin and Stella, were already nestled against their mother’s chest.

“Alright, smile,” the Doctor said, adjusting the camera. He hurried to take his place at Donna’s bedside. Moments later the flash went off, capturing the very first image of their growing family.

“How’d it turn out?” she asked.

“Take a look,” he said, tilting the camera towards her.

“We look really happy,” she said, slightly awed.

“No, we _are_ really happy,” he corrected. “This is the happiest day of my life, next to the day you became my wife.”

“Right. Is Doctor short for Doctor Suess? Because you’re a poet and you don’t know it?”

“And here I thought you might be too tired to give me a hard time,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“You thought wrong, Time Boy,” she replied, smiling fondly at him.

“Hey, that’s _Mister_ Time Boy to you. I’m a married man, after all.”

“Yes, I remember, I was there, honey badger.”

“Honey badger?”

“I’m trying it out,” Donna said with a shrug.

“Right, fine. I’m your honey badger. Does that make you the beehive I steal honey from?” he asked, brushing the hair back from her forehead.

“No, I think it just makes me the Queen Bee,” she said archly.

“Oh, right, of course. The Queen Bee. Yes, I should’ve known,” he said sagely.

* * * * *

_A year and some time later…_

“You know, it takes at least six Time Lords to properly pilot a TARDIS,” he said, holding up the pregnancy test. There were two bright pink lines in the test window.

“That’s assuming that there’s at least one competent Time Lord around to teach them,” Donna replied.

“Oi!”

“Oh, don’t start. Martha told me you admitted to her that you failed the test to pilot this thing!”

“You talk with Martha?” he asked, sticking his lower lip out.

“All the time. I have to vent to someone who understands your particular brand of crazy every now and then.”

“I’m not, I’m not...okay, maybe I am a _little_ crazy.”

“A little?”

“Oi!”

“Nevermind your bruised ego. Doctor...we’re having more babies,” she said, grabbing his hand and guiding it to her belly.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are,” he said, smiling back at her.

“You know, we’re going to have to start using birth control, or we’re going to end up like the old woman in the shoe,” she said pointedly.

“You’re not old.”

“Smart answer. But that doesn’t negate what I just said. Doctor...what if it’s six babies this time? That’d be nine babies. I don’t think we have the time for nine babies, not for the sake of the universe.”

“Well, the universe will just have to wait. I’ve got more important things to deal with right here, right now.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do. You are probably the only person in the universe I would put time on hold for. Well, you, Selena, Stella, and Sorin. And whoever comes next.”

“We’ll have to start thinking of names,” she mused.

“Yes well, luckily we have plenty of time.”

“Easy for you to say!”

“Hey, I’ll switch with you any time you like.”

“Ha, like I’m falling into that trap again. No, I rather prefer it when you’re waiting on _me_ hand and foot, not the other way around.”

“I kind of figured you would say that.”

“Hmm, right? It’s almost like we’re married or something,” she said, giving him an indulgent smile.

“Smartest thing I ever did, marrying you.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely one of your better choices.”

“Ah, now who’s the modest one?”


End file.
